


I Can Count On You After All That We've Been Through

by Love_someone_special



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Christmas, Family Dynamics, Husbands, Karaoke, M/M, Smut, also the husbands get a little bit drunk, harry and louis have kids, there's three of them, they're pretty cute so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 17:03:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11673387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Love_someone_special/pseuds/Love_someone_special
Summary: The one where Harry and Louis have a little too much to drink on Christmas Eve and do some late night, overly enthusiastic karaoke to celebrate Louis’ birthday. Needless to say, Santa Clause makes a few mistakes that night. Poor Harry and Louis don’t know how to set it right.Or the Christmas AU written in July that no one literally no one asked for but it’s here anyway so you may as well enjoy it.





	I Can Count On You After All That We've Been Through

**Author's Note:**

> Hiiii lovelies,
> 
> This is my first fic I've published about these boy's, so please be nice!
> 
> I had so much fun writing this, and let's be honest it's extremely self-indulgent, so I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> Thank you so much to the two lovely people who helped me with this fic and betaed it for me, I appreciate it so so much. 
> 
> Sadly I do not own One Direction or any of the boys at all for that matter, as they keep rejecting my applications to buy the rights to their entire band, so, yeah. Not mine, not real, didn't happen. Bummer.
> 
> Andddd I think that's all from me. Enjoy! xxxx
> 
> This fic was written as part of an ongoing challenge. We each select random numbers and are given a specific emotion from the book 1000 Feelings For Which There Are No Names. To read the other fics written in this challenge, click [here](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/ShortFic_Challenge_For_Which_There_Is_No_Name/works), or you can find the masterpost on tumblr [here](http://lululawrence.tumblr.com/post/159679804243/1000-feelings-for-which-there-are-no-names-prompt).
> 
> Prompt: 564: The indignation that your little brother got everything handed to him on a silver platter.

“Louuu….” Harry is singing softly in his ear, a noise that’s a mess of giggles and little huffy breaths of air. Louis has tilted his head back to look at Harry, who is wrapped around him, back snug against the arm of the couch. “Have you had a good birthday?” His voice is slow, and Louis can feel his smile in it. He smiles too, can never help smiling when his husband is smiling. Maybe it’s a soulmates thing. Maybe Louis is just crazy. Either way, he leans in, pressing his lips against Harry’s, sighing in contentment. 

“Of course I have love.” The fire is flickering in the corner of the room, and the light from it dances off their glasses of wine that have been left on the coffee table. Two bottles of wine, one nearly empty and the other completely empty, sit forgotten beside the cups. “It’s always wonderful when I spend it with you.” Louis murmurs to him, turning his head back and dropping it against Harry’s shoulder. 

“That’s so cheesy babe. Literally, the cheesiest line I have ever heard.” Harry laughs, and Louis feels it vibrate in his chest where he’s leaning back on Harry. Everything feels soft and syrupy, the Christmas lights on the mantel piece casting a glow over the arranged stockings. Ella, Oscar and Jamie are the names embroidered carefully across each stocking, and Louis smiles at the idea of them picking up full stockings tomorrow morning, opening presents, laughing and giggling. 

“There is no chance that’s the cheesiest line you have ever heard. You’ve said cheesier stuff than that yourself Harold. In fact, I think you will always be able to win the cheesiest lines competitions.” 

“Can’t help it when I’ve got such a muse in front of me.” Harry murmurs back, and Louis can’t see him but he just knows the man is wiggling his eyebrows. “You look so irresistible in your sweats.” Harry teases him, running a hand over the waistbands of his track pants. 

“Weirdo.” Louis responded, and Harry hums in an almost agreement. They sit a few more minutes, content within themselves, knowing their three children are upstairs, warm in their beds, excited for the Christmas morning to come. It’s times like this, when Louis is more than a little bit drunk, yet calm, that he can’t help the swell of pride inside his own chest, the moments of “Hey, yeah. we made it. And we did this. And we built this whole life around ourselves and look at it it’s so beautiful.” In the midst of these thought, Harry gently jostles Louis, until Louis wiggles off him, groaning a little in protest. “What are you doing babe?” 

“It’s your birthday, and we haven’t fulfilled all the traditions yet.” Harry says, looking determined as he pulls his long body up from the couch, crossing the room and pulling his sweater down to cover the sliver of skin showing just above his waistband as he goes. Louis bites his lip at the sight of the soft little love handles that remained there, after all these years. 

“We could make a new tradition? Say, where you come back here and I blow you on the couch?” Louis suggests, smirking at Harry. Harry barks out a gleeful laugh but shakes his head. 

“Maybe after. First, we need to karaoke. We cannot have a proper Louis Tomlinson’s birthday without a lil bit of karaoke, and you know it.” Harry’s expression is stern, but his eyes are bright as he turns from Louis, heading for the kitchen. 

He’d never really changed, his Harry. Not from that first time he kissed him. Sure, he’d grown up, learnt a couple of things. But he was still the loving, playful person who was so full of wonder and light and love for everything and everyone. Jesus, Louis really needed to stop drinking alcohol. It made him such a damn sap. Lost in his moments of thought, he zoned back in as Harry sidles back into the living room, placing the UE boom on the coffee table. The beginning drum beats of a song that is vaguely familiar plays out.

“Oh god Harry. You didn’t.” Louis giggles as the song clicks in his head. “You’re not.”

“Oh I am.” Harry responds, giving his hips a shimmy, that came off looking ridiculously almost illegally enticing due to the skinny jeans Harry still hasn’t quit wearing. Louis sits up straight on the couch, leaning forward to balance his elbows on his knees. 

“I can’t believe you. Just because it’s Christmas eve does not mean we’re not allowed to play a song that isn’t on the Love Actually playlist.” Louis’ eyes crinkle as he teases. Harry pouts.

“Shut up and watch me.” In that moment, he swiftly bends to pick up the tv remote as a makeshift mic and louis leans forward to turn the speakers volume up as high as they could push it without risking waking the kids with their impromptu concert. “ _Your eyes. Tell me how you love me. Can feel it in your heart beat._ ” Harry begins, hips and eyebrows wiggling on each double beat. Louis tugs a couch pillow into his lap to squeeze with glee. As much as he fought it, there is nothing he loves more than seeing Harry perform. Whether it’s to just him, at 1am in his skinny jeans and a huge, horrendously ugly Christmas sweater, or onstage in front of thousands, he was a force of light, bright and endearing and just burning so bloody bright you had to watch him. Louis, as always, was captivated. 

Harry continues to strut in front of the fire place, his voice low and staggered as he matches the tempo of the song, picking right up for the chorus.  
“ _I can feel you getting hotter, oh baby!_ ” He raises his voice in exaggeration, tipping his head back and making Louis laugh loudly. “ _I’ll take you down, I’ll take you downnnnnn, where no one’s ever gone before…_ ” Harry sings along in badly matched tones, and Louis can’t help but marvel at the overgrown child he gets to call his. He can’t help but join in on the next line, and Harry holds out a hand for Louis as soon as he hears his voice joining him.

“ _And if you want more, if you want more! More! More!_ ” They half sing, half yell, giggling to each other as Harry spins Louis away from him in a mad twirl and Louis narrowly misses the coffee table, catching his alcohol addled self at just the last minute.

 

 

By the end of the song, they’re rosy cheeked and breathless, sinking down onto the rug below the fireplace. 

“How was that for a performance Lou?” Harry asks, nuzzling against the side of Louis’ jaw as he winds an arm round his waist.  
“Brilliant.” Louis responds, turning so his eyes meet Harry’s, the green of his eyes darkened by the lighting and his widened pupils. Louis can’t tell if Harry’s pupils are wide with desire or fatigue, but either way, he leans in to kiss him softly on the lips, running his hands up the fabric off Harry’s heinous Christmas sweater to loop round Harry’s neck. “I really, really love you.” He murmurs in between pressing soft open mouthed kisses to Harry’s lips. “I can’t wait for another year with you.” 

Harry sighs into his mouth in response, practically melting in to his husbands touch as he runs his hands over the small of Louis’ back, tucking his hands up under Louis’ hoodie so his palm touches the warm skin there.

“I really, really love you too.” He’s saying as he pulls Louis closer and closer, the heat of the fire warming up one side of their bodies, and then Harry’s tugging Louis down so they’re stretched out on the rug, Louis’ smaller body lying spread across Harry’s, his hands sliding up to Harry’s long curls, tugging gently on a perfectly coiled strand. Their kisses are desperate and yet slow, the kind of kissing only married couples can afford, when they know they have the rest of forever to do this, and can take all the time they want. Louis can taste the wine on Harry’s lips as he nips softly at Harry’s bottom lip, a broken moan echoing throughout the room. 

“Shh…” Louis whispers, dropping his face into Harry’s neck. “Kids are sleeping.” He presses his hips down slightly into Harry’s, knowing the effect it will have on him. Harry lets out another moan, slightly quieter but equally as desperate. 

“Am I a bad parent if I say I don’t care?” Harry asks, moving his hands to grasp at Louis’ hips, holding him still. Louis nods yes, changes his mind and shakes his head no. “God, Lou. We’re gonna be so hungover tomorrow. And the kids are going to be up at the crack of dawn love.” As Harry speaks his eyebrows crease together, and that just won’t do. Louis wiggles up Harry’s body a little, accidentally finding friction against his crotch on the way up. He lets out a soft moan, and presses a kiss to Harry’s frown lines. 

“Doesn’t matter. They’ll be so obsessed with their new toys; we’ll probably be able to sneak back to bed for a bit after they’ve opened everything.” Louis reaches down to the bottom of Harry’s sweater, trying to tug it off. 

“Love, as attractive as watching you pout about trying to tug my sweater off is, I think you’re going to have to get off me if you want my sweater free.” Harry suggests, a teasing but slightly fond smile on his face. Louis wants to kiss that face stupid. So he does. Little giggles emanated from Harry’s lips as Louis attacked his face with kisses, trailing them over his jaw and eyebrows, along the line of his nose and the cupid bow of his lips. “You’re crazy.” Murmurs Harry as Louis presses one last lingering kiss to Harry’s lips. 

“Arguably, you’re just as crazy. I mean, you did marry me. So realistically it’s your own damn fault Harold.” Louis responds, and rolls to the side, sliding off Harry’s body onto the soft rug to lay beside him. Harry makes an affronted noise in the back of his throat. 

“What, we’re not going to make our new tradition? What happened to blowing you on the couch?” Harry asks, tilting onto his side to look at Louis. Louis reaches a hand up to pet at Harry’s cheek. 

“I’d love to, but we’ve got to fill the kids stockings still, and then we’ve gotta get to bed. Oscar is going to be waking us up very very soon.” Louis pauses for a few seconds, staring at Harry for a little longer, those green eyes looking back at him steadily.

“Or, we could finish off that bottle of wine and celebrate your birthday with some birthday sex, the traditional way.” Harry smiles cheekily, and Louis’ leans in too quickly for him to pretend he even tried to resist, pressing his mouth to Harry’s in an open mouthed agreement. 

“I knew there was a reason I liked you… even though it’s not technically my birthday anymore.” Louis murmurs as Harry presses kisses down the side of his neck, tugging up on Louis’ hoodie as he does so.

“Are you still talking?” Harry asks as he nips the skin on Louis’ collarbone, slipping a hand down to palm Louis’ crotch as he does so. Louis, decidedly, is no longer speaking. 

 

 

It’s three in the morning by the time they finally pull themselves away from each other, pulling their clothes back on, the two bottles of wine on the table having received a third addition. Louis doesn’t remember when they opened it or when they drank it, but his limbs feel lax and his whole body is sighing in contentment as Harry pushes him in the direction of the garage to get the hidden box of gifts that had been put on a high shelf, away from young prying eyes. They took their job as Santa very seriously. 

Louis giggles to himself as he stumbles over the small set of steps to the garage, and when he returns with the box Harry is busy taking little bites out of the carrots Oscar and Ella had laid out the night before. 

“Thank god one of us likes vegetables. I knew I married you for all the right reasons.” Louis says as he enters the room, startling Harry a little out of his concentration and god how did he even look endearing now? Curls everywhere, cheeks flushed and his god awful sweater on inside out. Maybe it was the carrot in his mouth. Whatever it was, Louis wanted to drag him over for a third round of birthday sex. Harry lets out a soft giggle and then glances up, knocking his hip against their kitchen counter as he tries to step round it towards Louis. 

“Ouch.” He says softly, and Louis places the box down, reaching a hand round Harry’s waist once he’s close enough, rubbing his fingertips over the spot Harry hit.

“Do you want to do the stockings or shall I?” Louis asks him softly, a smile spreading across his face. God, he’d waited so long to have his boy like this, to just be able to live with him in a domestic life. Every year of paparazzi’s and publicity and fame, and it turns out all Louis needed to make himself happy was a drunk Harry in his arms the night before Christmas, about to put presents in the stockings of their children.  
“I’ll do it, don’t want to mess up the presents and I think I’m a touch soberer than you right now love.” Harry leans down and picks up the box, wandering over to the Christmas tree, lit up with lights in the late of the night, or the early morning. Louis’s not really sure what they’re calling it now. 

“Soberer isn’t even a word Harold.” Louis responds, his voice fond. “I’m going to go check on Oscar.” Louis calls over to Harry as he heads up the stairs from the kitchen. 

 

 

Oscar is lying in his cot, soft snuffling noises emanating around the room. Louis’ heart seizes a little. He’s one-year-old, and his little fist is clenched around his bunny. Louis wants to hold him. So he does. He reaches down, and as gently as he can scoops Oscar up, one hand under his bum, the other against his back as Oscar rests on his chest. He’s so little, and Louis loves him so much. He’s not sure how long he stands there holding him, revelling in the feel of his baby asleep in his arms. 

Louis only lifts his head from staring at Oscar's little face when he hears Harry step into the room, and he smiles at Harry, eyes watery with tears that had appeared without Louis noticing. 

“Hi love.” Harry murmurs, a soft smile on his face. “Time for bed?” He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to Oscar's head, and Louis’ nods. Harry eases Oscar out of Louis’ arms and sets him gently back down in the cot, letting a soft hand trail over Oscars hair. Louis’s heart swelled a little bit more. He takes Harry’s other hand, tucking himself into his side, slotting in like an easy piece of a puzzle, because everything was right next to Harry. Next to Harry was where Louis belonged. 

“He’s so beautiful isn’t he?” Louis murmurs soft, and Harry nods, repeating Louis’s words.

“So, so beautiful.”

 

 

They stand there a few moments longer, until Louis pulls Harry gently by the hand down the hallway to their room. Harry grabs two cups of water from the bathroom, handing one to Louis and drinking one himself, knowing the hangover tomorrow is going to be wretched at six in the morning when their children wake them. Then they both shed their clothes down to their pants, Louis immediately dropping down onto the bed, Harry wiggling out of those ridiculously tight skinny jeans. The buzz of alcohol may have worn off only a little, because Louis finds the view ridiculously funny, and has to smother his face with a pillow to cover his laughs. Harry rolls his eyes fondly, kicking his pants to the side and climbing on to the bed next to him, tugging the covers up around Louis and himself. Louis sighs contentedly, rolling over so he can throw an arm round Harry’s waist and pull him closer. 

“I really love getting to do all of this with you.” Louis murmurs, a mix between a drunken slur and a soft, loving murmur. Harry just hums against his chest, half asleep. Louis thinks Harry’s fallen completely asleep by the time he responds, and he gets a little shock. 

“Want to do everything with you.” Comes the quiet reply, and Louis knows he should be used to lines like that by now, should be used to everything Harry after almost twenty years together. But he’s just not. Louis falls asleep with a smile on his face, and a wonderful husband wrapped in his arms. 

“Get up get up get uppppp!!!!” is the yell that wakes both Louis and Harry barely three hours after they fall asleep. Louis sits up blearily, catching a glimpse of seven year old Jamie practically bouncing on his toes at the end of their bed. Louis feels a little like death, and Jamie continues to yell. “Santa’s been Dada! Santaaaaa has been!! He’s left all these presents, and the reindeers ate our carrots!! Except, I don’t think he brought all the reindeers, cos they only ate two of the carrots, and they didn’t eat it all, but maybe they just shared the carrots.” Jamie keeps babbling, excitement noticeable in every feature of his face. Beside Louis, Harry groans, his face buried in a pillow. Louis knows how he feels.

He considers his options for all of two seconds, and then reaches out for Jamie, promptly pulling him onto their bed.

“How exciting!” He says and he smiles at his son, whose grin is missing a tooth. “But you know we can’t open presents until Ella and Oscar are awake as well, so why don’t you hop under the covers for a cuddle?” Asks louis, voice soft so as not to disturb Harry, hoping Harry might be able to drift back to sleep if only for a little bit. Jamie pouts a little, but gives in pretty quick, curling up under the covers next to Louis. Louis smiles, and closes his eyes for a couple more minutes, the slamming in his head easing. 

 

 

Seven minutes later, the slamming is back, and Oscar is calling out from his crib in the room down the hall, and Louis can hear the cries getting a little more hysterical the longer Oscar’s left in his cot. Louis sighs, looks at where Jamie has somehow miraculously gone back to sleep, and thinks wistfully of a few more minutes’ sleep, but then Oscar is crying again and Louis wiggles down to the end of the bed and hops up, trying not to disturb Harry or Jamie. If he can get Oscar quiet for a little bit, he might be able to get a little more sleep. 

Of course, there’s no real chance of that. Louis just likes to be an optimistic person. When he walks into Oscar’s room, he’s standing up, having pulled himself up on the edge bars on the cot and crying, his little fists curled round the bar, his face red and tear streaked. Every now and again he takes a breath from crying, and says “Dadadadadadad”. He’s halfway through a new round of crying when he sees Louis walk in, and he stops abruptly. 

“Dadda!” He squeals, gleefully. 

“Hey little lad. Couldn’t let your parents have a bit more of a sleep in, could you now?” Louis’ murmurs to him as he leans down to pick Oscar up. As a hello, Oscar claps a chubby hand to Louis’ cheek. Louis smiles. “What do you say we get you out of this onesie, and we go find some breaky? Let dad and the others sleep a little longer?” 

Oscar smiles a chubby cheeked grin at him and mumbles “Brekay.” In a very serious tone. Louis chuckles. 

 

 

Two hours later, Louis is sat in the kitchen, nursing a cup of tea and a hangover simultaneously while Oscar toddles on his extremely unsteady feet around the coffee table, moving every chess piece from the board that’s there and handing it to Louis, one by one, until Louis has a lovely little collection of knights and pawns and everything else lined up on the table. 

Every hand over comes with a soft “Thank you love” from Louis and a slightly forceful

“Ta!” from Oscar. Every now and again, Oscar takes an overly shaky step and wobbles for a moment, and Louis’ heart practically drops out of his chest every time. However, Oscar never seems to actually fall, much to Louis’ relief. 

 

 

That’s how Harry, Ella and Jamie all find them when they come down the stairs, Jamie practically flying down the steps in excitement. 

“I told you Oscar was awake, Dad, can we open presents now, pleaseee?” Jamie says, turning to face Harry who is still on his way down the stairs. 

“If Dada says you can, then you can.’’ Harry’s says, wincing a little at Jamie’s tone and rubbing a hand through his hair. Harry’s pulled on a new, equally awful Christmas sweater, and the sleeves are falling past his fingertips and his hair’s a mess and he looks bleary eyed and Louis kinda loses his breath for just a second, because even when Harry’s hungover and sleep deprived, Louis still can’t understand how he got so lucky with this one. Jamie turns a pleading face to Louis and he smiles. 

“Alright! Everyone into the living room.” Louis announces, and Jamie practically bolts to the couch. Harry ambles over to Louis first, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. 

“Merry Christmas love.” Harry murmurs, and Louis smiles. 

“Merry Christmas to you too. Seems like we can’t quite manage our wine as well as we used to.” He giggles softly and Harry nods.

“Tell me about it.” Harry says as he walks towards the kitchen. 

“There’s painkillers for you on the bench, Haz.” Louis calls over to him as he stoops to pick Oscar up.

“You’re a godsend.” Harry responds as Louis walks over to Ella, who is standing next to the couch, looking excited and tired at the same time.

“Morning, Merry Christmas honey.” Louis says, wrapping an arm round her shoulder. She smiles, tucks her face into his shoulder for a second. 

“Merry Christmas Dad.” She says to him. Ella had recently decided calling Louis Dada was too childish, and Louis and Harry had pretty much accepted the change. However, it had led to a lot of confusion for some time, as Harry and Louis both started answering to Dad, and neither one of them really had any idea who Ella was actually talking to half the time. It was an ongoing struggle. 

“What do you say we open those presents? Think Santa’s brought a few things for you all.” Louis says, an excited grin spreading over his face. 

“Don’t you dare start without me!” Harry calls from the kitchen, and Jamie groans.  
“Well hurry up then, I’ve been waiting forevvvveer!” Jamie whines. Harry comes over quickly, snuggling down into a corner of the couch. Louis settles down next to him, Oscar wiggling a little in his arms, so he settles him in Harry’s lap, making Oscar grin.

“Okay, Jamie, I think you can open a present first.” Jamie’s out of his seat before Louis’ finished the sentence, and he’s picking up everyone’s stockings off the fire place, and handing them out, one to Ella, one to Oscar, and a smaller one each to Harry and Louis, that hold their presents from each other in them. Quickly, Jamie sits himself down on the couch, reaching into his stocking and picking out the first gift. He undoes the wrapping as Harry and Louis both watch on with fond smiles. 

For Louis, this is the best part of the entire Christmas day, watching the smiles on their children’s faces as they open the gifts they’ve asked for, or the little surprise ones that they didn’t ask for but Louis or Harry saw and thought they would love. Harry, seeming to read Louis’ mind, wraps an arm round his waist as Jamie yells out “I got a Buzz Lightyear toy!”

“No way!” says Louis. “Is it the one you wanted buddy?” He’s half encouraging Jamie, but also partially checking that they bought him the right one. Jamie nods vigorously as he grins, pulling it out of the packing. Louis leans back against the couch, wrapping an arm round Harry’s shoulder.

 

 

Twenty minutes later, the stockings are diminishing in size, and the whole room is littered with wrapping paper. Harry started off trying to pick up all the paper and keep the room tidy, but he soon gave up, content to snuggle back into Louis’ side as they watch their kids open gifts, and help Oscar to unwrap his. It’s when Jamie pulls out a rectangular gift that Louis shoots Harry a quizzical look. Harry glances at the gift Jamie’s halfway through opening, and looks as confused as Louis. 

“What’s in that one?” Louis mouths at Harry, and Harry just shrugs. It’s when Jamie tears it open that Harry stiffens, and Louis glances back at Harry then quickly shifts his gaze to Jamie, who is holding what looks suspiciously like a box with an apple logo on it. 

“Santa got me a phone?!” Yells Jamie in excitement, as he strips off the rest of the outer packaging.

“Oh god.” Says Louis quietly. Harry is still staring in shock at Jamie. At the mention of a phone, Ella’s head whips up from where she’s halfway through unwrapping a hair straightener. Her jaw drops as she sees the signature white box in Jamie’s hands. Louis dies a little inside. His seven-year-old is holding a new phone, whilst his fourteen year old, who was supposed to have gotten a phone, who had been wanting a phone for a year and a half, looks a little like she’s about to cry. That was the last time they will ever be drinking on Christmas Eve. 

“Um, Jamie? Maybe pop the phone aside for now, we’ll sort it out in a minute okay? Harry, come help me in the kitchen for a second.” Louis says as he stands up. That’s the moment it seems to click for Ella that it was in the wrong stocking, and she turns a furious look to Louis. Before she can say anything though, Harry’s standing up as well, following Louis out of the room with Oscar on his hip, leaving Ella to fish mouth at their retreating backs. The second they step into the kitchen, Louis swings the door shut and turns to Harry, who looks so so guilty. 

“God _damn_ it.” Louis murmurs. Harry frowns.

“Hey. Watch your language, Oscar’s here.” 

As if to affirm that, Oscar lets out a loud “Hi!” Louis smiles briefly at Oscar, and goes right back to frowning.

“Harryyyy, you literally had one job! What ever happened to ‘ _I’ll do it, I’m more soberer than you_ ’?” Louis is verging on hysterical as he runs a hand through his hair.

“Hey. That’s not fair. We’d both had a lot of wine. Either one of us could have made the same mistake.” Harry protests, and a little of the fight goes out of Louis as he just nods. 

“I know. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to blame you I just… god, what are we going to do? Santa clause doesn’t make mistakes! We can’t just take it off him!” Louis keeps his voice hushed but his tone carries his exasperation and a hint of panic.

“I don’t know. God, I can’t believe I did that! I’m so sorry, I must have just put it in the wrong stocking. Wasn’t thinking, obviously.” Harry says, his arms tightening as he readjusts Oscar on his hip and then runs a stressed hand through his hair. “Fuck Lou, what are we gonna do?”

“Stop drinking on Christmas Eve, apparently.” Louis responds and Harry snorts. 

“Probably a good start.” For a second Harry looks really quite distraught about the situation, but then, inexplicably, he begins to laugh. Like, really laugh.

“What are you doing Harold?” Louis demands, but Harry just keeps laughing. Oscar joins in, always happy to have a giggle if someone else is. 

“Oh god. I’m sorry, it’s just, so funny. We seriously messed up. I mean, how do you explain that we got a little too drunk on Christmas Eve and accidentally gave your seven year old an iPhone for Christmas?” Harry dissolves back into laughter, and Louis’ lip quirks against his will. Damn Harry and his adorably loud laugh, and his stupid dimples and the way his hair falls over his face a little when he laughs. Within seconds, Louis’ laughing just as hard as Harry. 

“Oh god. How are we gonna tell Gemma what we did?” Louis says between giggles. Harry stops laughing at that, and says in a very, very serious tone.

“We’re not. We’re going to act like we did the Santa thing perfectly, like after fourteen years we’ve finally got this parenting thing down pat.” And then he starts laughing again, putting Oscar down when he starts squirming in his arms. 

“God. We really need some lessons on this whole thing.” Louis says quietly as they both finally stop laughing at the stupidity of their situation. Harry smiles a soft fond smile, the same smile Louis has been having directed at him since the video diary days, whenever Louis said anything sweet or funny, or just a little bit embarrassing, and Harry would give him that same look. It made Louis’ heart feel like bursting then, and it still does the same now. 

“Nah love. I think we’re doing just fine.” Harry murmurs, reaching out a hand to run a finger over Louis’ cheekbones, cupping his jaw. Louis leans in instinctively, and Harry kisses him softly. They both press into each other, Harry letting his arms settle down around Louis’ waist, Louis wrapping an arm round Harry’s neck to pull him down just a little bit. So Louis was still the shorter of the two of them, would always be the shorter of the two. It’s not his fault. And he doesn’t really mind. 

They pull away pretty damn quickly when they hear a crash come from across the kitchen and Oscar is looking over at them with an “Oops” face, the entire fruit bowl on the ground beside him. How Oscar even managed to reach it is beyond Louis. Harry glances at Louis and smiles as Louis walks over to Oscar. 

“That’s enough, you little menace.” Louis murmurs to him as he places Oscar on his hip and turns to Harry. “So have you got a plan? Because I certainly do not.”

“We ground him and say we’re confiscating his phone?” Harry suggests hopefully.

“And ruin his Christmas?” Louis shoots that idea down pretty quickly.

“We do nothing and hope he gets bored of the phone before he breaks it?’  
“And be the parents who let their seven year old keep an iPhone?”

“We tell him Santa made a mistake?”

“And have him inform us that Santa Clause doesn’t make mistakes because he’s magical?”

“Well, look. I’m sure Santa Clause does make mistakes when his husband encourages him to share several bottles of wine with him the night before Christmas!” Harry says, a little exasperated, the beginnings of a pout on his lips.

“Did you just imply Santa Clause is gay?” Louis asks, a smirk on his face as he bends down to start putting the fruit back into the thankfully unbroken fruit bowl. Harry pauses and lets a full-blown grin spread across his face.

“The gayest.” 

 

 

It’s twenty minutes later and they still don’t have a plan when they emerge from the kitchen, nervous expression on both their faces, ready to confront the kids. Except, Ella and Jamie aren’t in the living room. Or in any of the other rooms Harry checks and Louis re-checks, because apparently this whole Santa Clause mix up has really diminished the trust in their relationship. 

“Where on earth-” Harry begins after checking upstairs, but he’s cut off by shouts coming from the back yard. “Rascals.” Harry starts heading for the laundry door to the dry room, and Louis follows. They quickly tug on jackets and gloves, beanies and boots, preparing for the white Christmas they’re about to step out into. Harry bundles Oscar into a ridiculous amount of Layers and Louis can barely see his own sons face as he carries Oscar out through the dry room door, onto the small path that’s hidden with snow. 

“Harry, he’s going to pass out in all these layers!” Louis calls to where Harry is behind him, pulling the door shut. Harry’s got Ella and Jamie’s coats tucked under his arm, their gloves and beanies held in his hand. 

“Louis, it’s winter. Do you want Oscar to get hypothermia?” Harry calls back as he lengthens his strides, catching up next to Louis. 

“No, but I’d at least like for him to be able to breathe.” Louis mutters. Harry’s close enough and attuned enough to Louis’ sassy remarks that he hears this, and simply rolls his eyes fondly at him. As they round the edge of the house, the back garden comes into full view, and Harry takes a sharp breath in. The whole of the garden is covered in snow, clean, white, and fresh. Well, except for the small footprints of Jamie and Ella that have been tracked through the snow. At least they had the common sense to put their boots on, even if they didn’t remember their coats or gloves. Harry notices their children first, who are crouched down by a mound of snow on the ground in the back corner of the yard, giggling. 

“What _are_ you two doing?” Harry calls out across to them, a fake stern tone in his voice. Ella and Jamie both whip their heads up, smiling when they see Harry, Louis and Oscar on their way towards them. 

“Making a snowman!” Yells Jamie. 

“Well, in that case. Can we help?” Asks Louis, setting Oscar down in the snow next to the rather sad looking snowman. Oscar immediately lets out an excited shriek and starts to attempt to eat the snow. 

“Sure!” Jamie answers quickly. “But first, we need someone to go back inside and get a carrot, and someone needs to find a hat for him and maybe a scarf cause we want to make a proper snowman Dadda not just a boring snowman.” Jamie rambles, and Louis just smiles but Harry gently interrupts Jamie.

“First, we need to get _you_ a hat and scarf and coat, Jamie.” Harry admonishes, and Jamie looks a little guilty, as does Ella. For the first time, Louis notices that both of them are standing there in the snow in nothing more than their flannelette Pyjamas and boots. 

“Dad’s right, you guys will freeze if you don’t put something else on.” Both Ella and Jamie frown at them. 

 

 

It takes ten minutes until their two eldest children are finally bundled up in the clothes Harry brought out for them and all Ella’s protests against wearing her big red coat have been ignored because “It’s _cold_ , Ella”. Harry and Louis are sat in the snow trying to save the sorry state of the snowman, while Ella and Jamie go on a hunt for sticks they can use for snowman arms, Oscar toddling after them. 

Louis, bored with trying to sculpt the snowman, fine details were never his thing, starts to gather a smaller lot of snow, shielded by the snowman enough that Harry can’t see the pile of snowballs Louis has accrued. 

“Lou. What are you doing? You’ve been quiet for far too long.” Harry asks, voice cautious, the same voice, Louis notices, feeling a little offended, that he uses to ask Jamie where all the cookies in the kitchen have got to. 

“Nothing H, just finessing my snowmaning skills.” Louis claims, trying his hardest to make his voice sound perfectly passive. 

“I don’t believe it for a second.” Harry says, his voice filled with mirth. It’s Harry’s own bad luck, Louis tells himself, when Harry sticks his head round the snowman to see what Louis is actually doing, just as Louis has formed a perfect snowball in his hands. Realisation dawns on Harry’s expression a second before the snowball hits him square in the face. It’s not a hard hit, Louis’ too close and too kind to even put any power behind it, but the cold shocks Harry, and Louis cannot help the burst of laughter that leaves his mouth at Harry’s expression. 

“Right.” Says Harry, and Louis knows just from his tone Harry means business. In a very ungraceful scramble, Louis is grabbing a few of his snowballs and fleeing across the backyard, boots slipping slightly on the snow as he tries to find traction. “Run all you want Lou! At the end of the day, you’re still going to be sleeping on the couch tonight!” 

Louis smiles as he hears that, and turns for just long enough to fling a snowball at Harry before he ducks behind one of the large trees on the skirts of their yard. However, Louis’ curiosity gets the better of him a few moments later, eager to see if the snowball made it’s mark, and curious as to why Harry’s gone rather quiet. It’s a rookie error, really, when he steps out from behind the tree and a snowball hits him square in the chest. Harry cackles from across the yard, and Louis slings a third snowball at him, catching his shoulder with it. That seems to be the hit that sends them both into a mad scurry of forming snowballs and flinging them at each other, both laughing as they do so. 

They’re both breathless and red cheeked when Ella and Jamie come back, Oscar perched on Ella’s hip. Ella takes one look at the situation and sets Oscar down next to the back porch, where he can watch in safety, and immediately starts forming and slinging snowballs at both Harry and Louis. 

“I call Ella’s team!” Jamie yells as he makes his own snowballs. Ella is fine with this arrangement and they all fall into an all-out war, the entire backyard turning into a flurry of laughter and snow. It gets to a point where the fight is so intense and they’re all so close to each other that the whole process of forming snowballs is foregone and they begin just scooping up handfuls of snow and flinging them in whatever direction they can. Harry somehow manages to tackle Louis to the ground, and he’s halfway through attempting to shove a handful of snow into the collar of Louis’ coat when Harry is hit square in the face with a slightly too forceful snowball for a backyard game. Louis looks up from where he’s lying in the snow to see Ella forming another snowball to throw. 

“Looks like someone’s still a bit cranky about the phone.” Louis murmurs, and Harry nods. In that second, both Harry and Louis have one of those impressive couple moments, where they both know exactly what the others thinking. 

“One, two” Harry murmurs under his breathe, making Louis grin.

“Three!” Louis finishes, and they both jump upright and run towards Ella, Louis grabbing her by the waist and pulling her to the ground as Harry digs his fingers into her stomach gently, tickling her till she’s laughing properly, a full-blown smile on her face, her dark curls covered in a light dusting of powdered snow. 

“Stop it! Dad stop!!!” she calls out in protest, but her yells are undermined by her own giggles. Jamie sees what’s going on, and comes running over, scooping up some snow and tossing it at Ella. Louis, letting go of Ella’s waist, reaches up for Jamie, pulling him down and tickling him half to death as well. Eventually, they all collapse back on the snow, breathing heavily and utterly exhausted. As they lay there, Oscar toddles over from the edge of the porch to where they all lie, a pile of tangled limbs and smiles in the scuffed snow. 

“Hi!” Oscar says quite forcefully, and then sits down with finality on Louis’ chest. 

 

 

After they get all the kids into a warm shower and into fluffy warm trackies and sweaters, Harry begins cooking a slightly belated Christmas lunch, which is looking more like a Christmas dinner due to the interruption of the backyard expedition. Louis is sat perched on the kitchen counter with Oscar settled in his lap, watching Harry cook, hair still damp from his own shower, when Ella walks into the room. 

“Hey honey.” Harry greets, his hand pausing holding the knife as he cuts up the vegies for a roast. Ella looks at both of them with a steely gaze, and that’s when Harry and Louis simultaneously realise they never solved the issue of the phone. Ella, clearly, never forgot about this. 

“I need to talk to both of you.” She says, voice a little too hard for their fourteen year old daughter. 

“Right. Okay. Um.” Harry attempts. At this, Louis turns his head to face Harry, because whilst Harry not being able to form a coherent sentence is a pretty regular occurrence in this household, it also means something entertaining is about to happen. Ella still has s a cold expression across her face as she levels harry with a look that pretty much stops the continuation of any of his struggling sentences. “Lou?” Harry asks, shifting to face Louis, clearly throwing the responsibility over to him. Louis lets out a little indignant squeak, and tries to find his footing.

“Okay. Um, what did you want to say? We kind of need to speak with you too.” Louis says with an authoritative tone, and he thinks he’s handled it quite well so far, no thanks to Harry. 

Knowing Ella no longer believes in Santa clause, as she had caught them out two years ago when Harry had accidentally knocked over the whole Christmas tree as he was trying to put the presents in the stockings, and both Louis and Ella had come running to check there wasn’t someone trying to break into the house. There had not been, but there had been a very sorry looking Harry sitting next to the toppled tree, a loop of tinsel round his shoulders and Jamie’s stocking in hand. It had been one of the more entertaining Harry moments, yet Louis remembers he had still been furious, couldn’t believe they had just ruined the belief of Santa Clause for their twelve year old daughter. Now, however, Louis was quite thankful she knew the truth, because it made this a heck of a lot easier. Before Louis can even start a sentence though, Ella is talking.

“This is so not fair dads! What the hell?!” She steps into the room properly, rounding on them a little closer, and sometimes Harry gets a little scared of how much of Louis’ sass their daughter has inherited.

“Language.” Harry murmurs quietly. In true Ella fashion, she ignores him. Definitely got that from Louis too.

“He always gets everything he wants! He’s so goddamn spoiled, and you guys don’t even care! Why does he get a phone? He’s seven! He doesn’t even need a phone! And I asked for one all year and I still don’t get one! I swear it’s like, anything Jamie wants he just gets! What the hell is that about?” 

“Language!” Louis cuts in, more harshly than Harry did. To be honest, it wasn’t even the swearing that had caused Louis’ tone. it was the fact that he was still a little more than a bit hungover, and his daughters angrily loud voice wasn’t helping. Ella finally stops talking. “Good. Now. We’re really sorry, we didn’t mean for any of this happen. We had a little bit of a mix up this morning, see, the phone was in the wrong stocking. It wasn’t meant for Jamie. So there’s no need for you to have a strop, we’re simply going to tell Jamie that Santa made a mistake and you’ll get your phone. Okay?” The look on Ella’s face is almost guilty as she nods. 

“Sorry.” She says meekly, and Harry just laughs. 

“It’s alright love. We’ll try to get the presents right next year,” Louis says, reaches out an arm for Ella, and she goes willingly into a hug from him. “Won’t we, Haz?” Louis throws over his shoulder, tone light. Harry nods sagely, and then lets a grin settle on his face. Ella sidles over to Harry next, wrapping her arms round him as well. 

“Thanks for my Christmas presents Dad.” She says to him. “Sorry I yelled.”

“That’s okay El. Now, Christmas lunch is going to be ready in a half hour, I suggest you go grab the phone from where Jamie left it in the living room. It’s all set up. And give your aunties a call, thank Gems and the girls for your Christmas gifts. And don’t forget to call your grandma!” Harry instructs, a soft smile spread on his face. He looks so adorable in his apron, Louis wants to pinch his cheeks. 

Ella’s smile spans her whole face as she whirls round out of the room, and Louis can’t help reciprocating the expression. 

“I’d say that was pretty well handled, wouldn’t you say Harold?” Louis enquires, shifting his gaze back to Harry. “Now, all that’s left is for you to tell Jamie he can’t keep the phone.” 

Harry pouts, tugging on the edge of his sweater a little. “Why do I have to tell him?” his voice is whiny and takes Louis back to a teenage Harry, pleading with Louis not to make him sleep on the top bunk. Louis never officially gave in, yet he always let Harry sneak down into Louis’ lower bunk ten minutes after they’d turned out the lights. 

“Because. You are the one who gave him the phone. How on earth could we teach our children to take responsibility for their mistakes if we don’t do it ourselves?” Louis asks in a sickly sweet voice. “Now, off you go.” Louis slides off the bench, Oscar firmly clasped to his hip, to give Harry a light pat on the bum in the direction of the staircase. 

“Yeah, well you’re the one who got me drunk in the first place. Let’s see you take responsibility for that mistake.” Harry grumbles, but none the less he takes the steps out of the kitchen and up the staircase.  
“Good boyyy!” Louis coos at Harry’s retreating back, and Harry just raises his middle finger in response. Louis giggles. “Isn’t he a good dad?” Louis murmurs to Oscar. 

Oscar looks at Louis with serious eyes and responds with “Lunch?”

 

 

Lunch is, to Oscar and Louis’ disappointment, more than half an hour later. Poor Harry doesn’t get back to the kitchen for at least twenty minutes after leaving, and by the time Louis has given the other boys a call to wish them a merry Christmas, and promise them that Harry would call in a bit, he’s half tempted to go up and check on Harry. Mainly because if Jamie is throwing one of his world-class tantrums than Harry’s going to be in a bit of a struggle. Just as he decides he is going to head upstairs and just _check_ if everything’s okay, Harry appears in the kitchen, looking flustered but relieved. 

“Tantrum?” Louis asks, and Harry just nods. Oscar lets out a small coo from where he’s on the kitchen floor, gleefully shredding the left over wrapping paper from the presents that Louis gave him to entertain himself. 

“Careful he doesn’t try to swallow that Lou.” Harry mentions offhandedly as he walks over to where Louis is still perched on the counter, wrapping an arm round his waist when Louis opens his own arms to Harry. “You should’ve seen that tantrum Lou. Definitely your son, yelling loud as all hell.” 

Louis makes an affronted noise, yet pulls Harry in closer, letting him settle in between his legs.  
“I seem to remember Anne telling me about some of your more famous tantrums as a child. I wouldn’t be so quick to place that blame on me.” Louis responds, and Harry just giggles. “Either way, there is going to multiple more tantrums in this house if we don’t have some form of dinner or lunch or whatever we’re calling it very soon.” Louis says inclining his head to where Oscar is sat. “He hasn’t had a nap all day, and there is a solid chance he’s going to crash any second.” 

“Oh god you’re right. It should be ready in twenty minutes. We should probably just put Oscar down now though, he’s not going to make it through all of lunch.” As if to confirm Harry’s words, Oscar lets out a shriek that turns into a steady cry, and Harry’s stepping out of the v of Louis’ legs so Louis can slide down off the counter. 

“Hey hey, none of that. It’s alright. Time for a nap buddy, yeah?” Louis coos in a soft voice as he walks over to Oscar, stooping to pick him up. “Say goodnight to Dad?” Louis asks. Harry steps over to them both, placing a soft kiss on Oscar’s head. 

“We’ll see you when you wake up love.” Harry murmurs, and Louis smiles, so charmed by Harry, before he turns on his heels and makes his way out of the room, up the stairs to Oscar’s cot. 

Lunch goes off without a hitch, Harry’s cooking amazing as always, Ella happy with her phone tucked safely into her pocket. Jamie seemed to have quickly forgotten all about the phone, thoughts moved onto other things like his new Buzz Lightyear. The rest of the day goes by in a whirlwind of the kids playing with new toys, Ella attempting to get Jamie to let her straighten his hair, and consequently nearly setting fire to the bathroom, as well as calling relatives and the boys all over again because Harry insists he needs to talk to them as well, even if Louis already made the calls without him before. 

 

 

It’s when all three of the kids are in bed, Oscar having gone down with zero fuss after a bottle, eyes drooping heavily as Harry had tucked him in, that Harry and Louis finally get a moment to breathe. 

Louis’ already stretched out on the couch in the living room when Harry comes back downstairs, dropping down next to Louis with a thud. 

“My god. Why did no one ever warn us how exhausting Christmas is?” Harry sighs out, and Louis laughs, running a gentle hand through Harry’s curls. 

“A good exhausting though, right?” He responds and Harry hums in agreement.

“A great exhausting.” Harry says, tilting his head to the side to press his lips to Louis’ softly. Louis begins to deepen the kiss into a proper snog when Harry pulls back. Louis pouts at the loss but Harry just laughs softly. 

“You know, I don’t think we ever gave each other our gifts Lou.” Harry murmurs to him, leaning in to press another soft kiss to Louis’ lips before he swings his legs off the couch, standing up and wandering over to where the stockings are on the ground. He picks up Louis’ and his own and brings them back to Louis on the couch. Reaching into Louis’ stocking, Harry takes out a perfectly wrapped box, complete with a bow and everything. Louis mildly wonders if it’s possible Harry’s wrapping skills become even more immaculate each year. He dismisses the thought when Harry holds the gift out to him, and Louis sits up properly on the couch to open it. Inside the box is a little card reading _Merry Christmas Lou. All my love, H._ and underneath that are two plane tickets. 

“What’s this?” He asks curiously and Harry grins, clearly excited.

“That’s two tickets to Paris for a week. Gems is going to look after the kids, and we’re going to spend a week eating cheese and drinking wine and looking at the Eiffel Tower.” Harry’s practically bouncing as he tells him. Louis grins back, the prospect of a whole week of Harry and just Harry so so lovely. 

“Thankyou.” He murmurs, pulling Harry in by the top of his sweater for another kiss. “It sounds wonderful, love.” Harry practically preens for a second. “However, I’m sorry to say my gift does not measure up to yours. Mainly because you said we were only doing small presents this year, you twat.” Louis says, pretending to be annoyed. Harry just laughs and makes grabby hands at his own present, which Louis wrapped to the best of his abilities. 

Harry lets out the kind of laugh Louis loves to hear, has always loved to hear, when he pulls the wrapping paper off carefully and an awfully horrendous Christmas sweater falls into his lap. The sweater had just screamed _Harry_ to Louis when he had seen it in the stores, and he knew Harry would wear it, would love it. 

“Oh god Lou, it’s perfect!” Harry’s face is split into a grin, and Louis can’t help but admire how easily his husband is pleased. You could give Harry the moon or a rock with a smiley face painted on it, and either way Harry would still look at you like you were the embodiment of everything good in the universe. 

“I’m sorry it’s not much love, it just- it made me think of you, so.” Louis attempts to excuse himself a little, but Harry just shakes his head. 

“No Lou, it’s lovely. I love it. So much. I love you, too, by the way.” Harry’s voice dips a little by the end, taking on a lower quality as he leans in closer to Louis, pressing into his space to catch his lips in an open-mouthed kiss. Louis accepts him with open arms, pulling Harry further onto him, letting the wrapping paper and sweater fall to the floor as he tugs his husband on top of him, gripping the back of his sweater. As Harry pulls his mouth away, running soft fingers over the edge of Louis’ jaw, dropping his head to mouth at the spot behind Louis’ ear that causes Louis to moan so nicely, Louis replies.

“Love you too Haz. So goddamn much.” He’s murmuring lowly, words interrupted by little puffs of air as Harry’s open mouth leaves marks on his neck, but he knows Harry hears, needs Harry to hear. Always needs this man to know just how desperately in love with him he is. When Harry makes to slide his hand under Louis’ t-shirt, eagerly trying to tug it off, Louis gently pushes Harry of him, standing up as well. Harry looks affronted and almost pouty, reminding Louis of a teenage Harry who would make that face anytime Louis told him they didn’t have time for a quickie in the bathroom before the show. That face usually resulted in them being late for the show. 

“Relax Haz, still wanna fuck you babe. Just, upstairs though, yeah? Want to get wrecked in our bed.” Louis says to him, pressing an index finger to Harry’s pout. Harry’s pout promptly disappears, and is replaced by a searing look that would have Louis half hard in his sweats if he wasn’t already. “Jesus Hazza, don’t look at me like that.” Louis turns on his heels, and Harry is barely a step behind him. 

 

 

As soon as Louis is up the stairs and in their bedroom, Harry is crowding into his space, needy and wanting like he always gets when he gets Louis alone. 

“Please Lou. Want you so bad. Need you.” Harry murmurs as he presses his lips, wait, no, his _teeth_ into the juncture of Louis’ neck and shoulder and oh god, Louis’ done for. 

“Of course Hazza. On the bed. Now.” Louis’ voice is authoritative, demanding. He’s tugging his own t-shirt off, dropping it to the floor as Harry obeys. He almost laughs, almost finds it funny watching Harry on the bed, lifting his hips to try and wiggle out of the sweats he’s wearing, but then the sweats and boxers are off and Harry’s lying there, hard and so fucking _gorgeous_ that Louis no longer seems to find it a laughing matter. Instead, Louis’ trying to remember how to get his own sweats and pants off as fast as he fucking can, because no matter how many times he’s had a naked Harry Styles in his bed, _there is still a naked Harry Styles in his bed. Tomlinson. Harry Tomlinson._ Louis corrects himself.

“Louuu.” Harry pants a little, and Louis watches as Harry circles his hand over his own cock, letting his head drop back against the pillow. 

“Jesus Haz.” Louis mutters, quickly climbing over Harry till he’s straddling him, knocking Harry’s hand away. “Wanna ride you. Wanna ride you so bad.” He’s murmuring, and Harry’s nodding, reaching over to the bedside table for lube, almost unseating Louis in his hurry. 

He slicks his fingers up so quickly Louis hardly blinks before he feels Harry’s fingertip circling Louis’ entrance, and Louis presses forward in surprise, catching at Harry’s mouth with his lips. Harry kisses him back eagerly, licking into his mouth as he reaches his other hand down, readjusting Louis on his hips for a better angle before he’s pushing his index finger into Louis’ entrance. Louis lets out a moan that’s filthy enough to rival that of his nineteen year old self.

“Jesus fuck Harry.” He lets out when Harry gives that singular finger a slight twist inside Louis and Louis feels his stomach muscles tense just for a moment. 

Harry takes his sweet time opening Louis up, softly kissing Louis as he steadily works additional fingers inside him until Louis’ squirming on his fingers, trying to fuck down onto them to get some form, any form, of pressure. But Harry keeps teasing, never giving in. Finally, when Louis is literally begging for it, chest shimmering with a light sheen of sweat, thighs shaking, Harry removes his fingers. 

“Gonna fuck you now, love.” He murmurs, and Louis can’t help a half-hearted snort.

“’Bout fucking time.” He says as he can’t help wiggling eagerly, letting his aching cock rub slightly against the smooth skin of Harry’s stomach. He moans at the feeling. Then, right then, Harry’s reaching down, adjusting himself to line up with Louis’s entrance, and Louis is sighing in a desperate mix of pleasure and relief as he finally gets to sink down onto Harry’s cock. He stays there for a moment, ass pressed snuggly against Harry’s crotch as he waits till he relaxes around Harry’s cock, and then he’s pulling up, using his thighs to lift himself up on Harry’s cock, then dropping back down. 

“That’s it baby. So good for me baby, oh my _god_.” Harry encourages, attempting to watch Louis as he rides him, but having to let his head drop back as Louis does a quick swivel of his hips, drawing another moan from Harry.

Soon, Louis is riding Harry desperately, lifting his hips up and slamming back down, thighs trembling from pleasure and exertion as Louis tries to angle Harry just right. Harry, in between his moans, can see Louis’ getting more frantic, knows what Louis needs and can’t get. In the next moment, Louis registers that Harry’s flipped them, Louis lying on his back now, Harry hovering possessively over him as he presses into him, rhythm picking up as Harry hits that spot and Louis’ mouth drops open. 

“Oh god, H, there.” Louis says, even though he knows Harry doesn’t need to be told, knows Harry can tell from the tension in Louis’ abs, the way his breath catches. Harry knows Louis so intimately sometimes it makes Louis’ heart ache. He can feel Harry is close, and with a few more thrusts against Louis’ prostate, Louis knows he’ll be coming too. 

“C’mon Haz, come for me baby.” Louis’s murmuring, and Harry’s thrusting into Louis two more times and coming undone, broken versions of Louis’ name leaving his lips as he fucks up into Louis again, riding out his orgasm. The thrusts have the tight coil of heat in Louis’ stomach reaching the brink, and then Louis’ crying out, feeling himself come over his own stomach, cock trapped between his own stomach and the press of Harry’s. When they both come down from their orgasms, Harry pulls out gently, and hops up out of bed, wandering slowly into the bathroom. He returns with a warm washcloth, wiping down Louis’ front and between his legs. 

“So good baby. So gorgeous, god.” Harry murmurs as he does so, and then he’s tossing the cloth onto the floor, climbing back into bed beside Louis. Louis lies there, entirely content, bones sluggish, a soft smile on his face. 

Slowly, he comes back to earth enough to reach down and pull the blanket up to cover both Harry and himself, and then folding his arms around Harry, pulling him into his chest, running a soft hand through his sex-rumpled curls. Harry hums softly, and Louis can tell he’s on the edge of sleep.

“I love you baby.” He murmurs into Harry’s hair, and Louis feels Harry’s cheek dimple with a smile. 

“I love you too Lou. So much. Can’t wait for every Christmas I get to spend with you.” Harry’s voice is a deep rumble, the same way it always gets when he’s so close to sleep.

Louis can’t help but smile at the thought though, the thought of next Christmas, and the one after, and the one after and every Christmas that he’s going to get to have with Harry right by his side, and he wonders if there will ever be a time they get this whole Santa thing right. _Probably not_ , Louis thinks. He doesn’t really mind.

**Author's Note:**

> If you've read all of this, thank you so much!  
> I hope it taught you about drinking responsibly on Christmas Eve when you have Santa Clausing responsibilities to attend to.  
> Feel free to leave a comment and let me know what you thought, good or bad, or come over to my tumblr [ and we can be best friends.](https://love-someone-special.tumblr.com/)   
> And if you really really loved it and you want me to love you forever and ever and ever you can reblog this post [ here.](https://love-someone-special.tumblr.com/post/163783810341/love-someone-special-title-i-can-count-on-you?is_highlighted_post=1)   
> I love you all!! xxx


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